Birthday Present
by atutsie
Summary: In which Kurapika preferred living in Mexico. WARNING: MUCH TROLL. TOO OOC. VERY RIP DANCHOU'S DIGNITY.
WARNING: MUCH TROLL. VERY RIP DANCHOU'S DIGNITY.

A/N: This is a birthday fic for Kurapika. And I just decided to post this here. Lol. I got this idea from MJ's April Fool's drawing and our convo in that post. Lol. I don't know what I'm doing or what I'm writing. Ahahahahahaahahaha.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FICTIONAL BABE, OUR BELOVED BLONDIE/TEAM MOM OF THE QUARTET WITH ANGER MANAGEMENT ISSUES! I'M STILL SHIPPING HAPPINESS x KURAPIKA OKAY. Please eat your meals and rest well, and no, don't sleep with the dead eyeballs, go in the couch or your bed or papi chrolli's abs and also, answer your freaking phone, your friends just wanted to greet you.

* * *

"I'm hom―"

Kurapika slammed the door right away, with the right force for it to stay intact. In that crucial moment, that 0.000000001 seconds he had viewed his doorway ―curse his naturally observant eyes― he saw everything. Each and every small detail was burned in his mind. For the first time in his life, (or second or third, trivial details did not matter anyway at that moment) he was wishing for a miracle, that a time machine would magically appear and take away the image in his mind, or just erase his memory of the last ten seconds of his life, so he could go on living chaotically with his vengeance, anger, dead eyeballs hunting and spider killing.

But maybe, just maybe, it was just a figment of his imagination? Maybe it was just a sick hallucination of his tired mind?

Ending up with this sensible conclusion, slowly and cautiously, he turned the knob of his door and pushed the door open.

Because there is just _no way,_ the leader of the Phantom Troupe, the Class S and notorious group, would be in his doorway wearing a pink apron _only_ with his graceful _dogeza_ like a young traditional wife from the tv shows he would watch sometimes. It was as impossible as Pariston had stopped his trash- _ful_ sparkling―

"Welcome home, Darling―"

He slammed the door once again, and this time, he accidentally exerted _nen_ that his beloved door broke into pieces, revealing the horror in his doorway.

Maybe even the _schwing_ -ing Hisoka would be a better display than this, Kurapika thought.

"―what would you like, dinner, bath, or..."

The man who was supposedly Chrollo Lucifer, Class S criminal, leader of Genei Ryodan, his arch nemesis, raised his upper body to face Kurapika. He caught the slightest of muscle twitching around the man's eyes, preparing himself for the worst sight the Ryodan leader had to offer, and then, Chrollo winked, producing a tiny spark that flew into his face, which he caught and threw right away. He did not know how that spark had materialized, and he was better off living his life without that knowledge.

"..me?" Chrollo continued.

Kurapika was simply mortified, paralyzing him in his current position. He did not have the energy to summon his chains or throw this man away from his apartment through physical means. If ever this was a well-thought plan to extract the revenge of the Ryodan Leader towards Kurapika or his methods of capturing the Kuruta, the man had succeeded.

Silence. They were just staring at each other.

Chrollo then stood up, and it would seem like he was not alone, the little one down there ―albeit it was, in actuality, _humongous_ ― was _up_ and as proud as its owner. He could clearly notice it beneath the thin fabric of that pink, ' _Kiss the Cook'_ apron.

Kurapika wanted to run away as far as he could at that moment.

"Happy birthday, _Darling_ ~ " Chrollo said, smirking as he held the hem of his apron. "I have another present for you here."

Slowly, he raised his apron, showing the pink bow tied at the base of that majestic rod of Chrollo Lucifer. And did he really wrap his _thing_ with that ribbon?

Kurapika, who was at his wit's end, shouted, "STO―"

He opened his eyes. It was just a dream. He raised his body, thanking all the gods out there for sparing him from experiencing that nightmare in the real world, though he still wished there would be some way of annihilating this memory from his mind.

He massaged his temples for a while, just to calm his nerves. Then he dangled his legs on the edge of the bed, wearing his house slipper and when he raised his head, _he_ appeared.

There, in the door of his bedroom, stood Chrollo Lucifer with a _very_ very big, red bow on his head, and some red laces around his almost naked body ―if not for his 'Kurapika' boxers. Only God knows how he ended up there and well, the CCTV cameras.

Leaning one side of his body on the door frame, as he exuded too much suave in his stance, he spoke.

"Happy birthday, chain bastard. _I_ am your present for today." He winked, " _Enjoy._ "

Moving out to Mexico might be a good idea for Kurapika.


End file.
